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by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, brothers in love, s09e12, sharp teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve never known how to be anything but brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

Dean’s home again.

Sam’s not going to tell him that he’s spent the last couple of weeks sleeping in Dean’s bed. Dean had been right—his mattress is a lot more comfortable than Sam’s.

Not to mention the fact that they’d fucked in that bed and slept entwined in it more often than Sam could count.

At first, it seemed perverse to sleep in Dean’s room; masochistic, even, as though he were reminding himself of what they’d lost. Dean was everywhere he looked: in the kitchen, in the books, in Kevin’s absence. The big brother who’d deceived him with endless lies, all because he loved Sam too much to let him go. Every night, Sam couldn't help thinking of Dean in some motel room, or maybe sleeping in the Impala. Self-exiled from home, from Sam, because Sam hadn't stopped him from walking away. Because Sam didn't have answers for either of them. Because it was too soon to think of anything to say that could make things right.

It’s all so wrong, so screwed up, that it steals Sam’s breath, makes him forget how to think. How to react to Dean’s presence again. Dean is weary, unshaven, looking as lost as Sam feels. They’ve never known how to be anything but brothers—even when they’re doing things brothers shouldn’t do, maybe especially then—and this distance is new, uncharted, but no less heartbreaking for all that it's required. Sam knows it's necessary for him to maintain distance, if only because their codependence finally seems to have taken them both to a place they can't return from, but he can’t wish away his knowledge of the smell of Dean’s skin, the taste of his cock: sensory inputs that have been vital to his happiness for so many years now that his body instinctively longs to curl into Dean’s when he goes to bed that night, back in his own room.

He kinda hates himself for it, just a little. But Dean’s home. Dean’s where Sam can keep an eye on him. Two weeks apart—just fourteen days—and he’s gone and marked himself with something that Sam almost can’t bear to think about, as though Dean needed a physical reminder that he’s Cain-like. A brother-killer. It’s all so twisted that Sam wants to laugh with helplessness. 

He tosses off the covers and pads barefoot to Dean’s room. The door’s ajar and he can see his brother’s still form, face planted into the pillows, legs tangled in the sheets, and the sight makes his stomach twist with want.

“Sam?” Dean slurs, half-asleep, lifting his head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Everything’s very, very far from okay, but there’s no way to put his thoughts into words, to take what he knows Dean will gladly offer, when he can’t be sure of his brother’s motivations. “I was… Yeah. Go back to sleep.”

Dean watches him for a moment, half propped up on an elbow. He’s on ‘his’ side of the bed, an empty space beside him that seems hollowed out just for Sam to fill. It would be so easy to crawl in beside Dean, fill that space. Dean wouldn’t say no. 

“Okay,” Dean says finally. He doesn’t lie back down, and after a moment of silence, Sam turns around and heads back to his own bed.


End file.
